


More Steak (Steak in the Rain)

by Keiko Kirin (sakana17)



Series: Steak [3]
Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-02-04
Updated: 2001-02-04
Packaged: 2017-10-03 03:05:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sakana17/pseuds/Keiko%20Kirin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>More eating, more talking. Clothes are removed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	More Steak (Steak in the Rain)

**Author's Note:**

> For Lynn and Kathy. Thanks to L and K for beta-reading and lots of help.

Chin propped on fist, Daniel stared at the photograph of inscriptions from 925 before him. The letters were all there, but what did it mean? He sat back and blankly scanned the wall, definitions and synonyms chasing themselves in his mind. His gaze fell on the calendar, its neat columns reminding him that, yes, it was still Thursday. He glanced at his watch. It was after five.

He could finish this at home. Other than intellectual curiosity, there was no reason why the translation couldn't wait. Daniel turned back to the photograph and followed the shapes of the letters with his pen. He was lingering. He was lingering because at some point during the day, the fact that it was Thursday had nudged his brain, and Thursday was steak night. Or, rather, it had been.

Their last steak dinner night (every other Thursday, circumstances permitting) had been four weeks ago. The next one had been postponed because they had been in the middle of a mission. They were still arguing about that mission the following week, so no rain check. This Thursday... apparently no steak. It was getting late, and Jack hadn't said anything. Daniel mentally inventoried the contents of his fridge and weighed the dubious appeal of commissary food against a trip to the supermarket.

With a sigh, he tapped the photo with his pen and tried to bring his thoughts back to the inscriptions. Admitting defeat, he switched off his desk lamp and rubbed his eyes under his glasses. He stood up, and was in the middle of stretching when Jack appeared in the doorway.

"Steak?" Jack said.

Daniel dropped his arms in mid-stretch. "Steak."

\---

What was with this traffic? Why did rain make people lose their ability to drive? When had camouflage green become a trendy car color? Jack idly pondered these questions as he waited for the light to change. He was running late. It was the shower that had done it. That, and the quick shave. And the hunting around for the shirt he was sure he'd just gotten back from the cleaners -- where was it, dammit? -- and the choosing of the replacement shirt. Still, he'd be there before Daniel. He always was.

Daniel was standing next to the hostess' stand when Jack walked in. "Oh, there he is," Daniel said. The hostess gave Jack a bland look, noted something down on her chart, and turned her attention to a party of four crowding into the foyer. Daniel came over, hands in jacket pockets. Jack was a little disappointed that Daniel wasn't wearing the blue shirt tonight. It was really very flattering. On the other hand, the black sweater he was wearing looked pretty good, too. Jack caught a whiff of aftershave as Daniel moved next to him.

"There's a wait," Daniel said.

"A wait? We never have to wait."

"They're busy tonight. I had them look for a reservation under 'O'Neill' but there wasn't one." Daniel's tone was studiously neutral. Jack knew that tone.

"All right, I didn't make a reservation. Thought we wouldn't need one. Never needed one before."

Daniel stepped back as a group of people pushed their way through toward the door. His heel bumped against Jack's shoe, and Jack grabbed his elbow to steady him. The hostess approached, carrying two menus. "Follow me," she said, and they followed, Jack resting his hand on Daniel's back.

It was indeed busier than usual. They didn't get their favorite table, instead a booth in the back room where the pool table was. It was a little quieter in here, aside from the clacking of pool balls. Drinks and steaks ordered, Daniel sat back and looked around, masking his interest in Jack's appearance as casual curiosity. Jack had shaved, and had obviously showered -- his hair was still a little wet, unless that was from the rain. He was wearing a dark green shirt that looked incredibly good on him.

Jack clasped his hands over the table, unclasped them, tapped the tabletop, and turned his head to watch two guys play pool. Daniel observed him, noting details he never had before: the pattern of dark and light grey in his hair, the taut muscles in his neck, the glimpse of grey chest hair peeking above the collar of his shirt. Daniel's gaze lifted, and Jack was staring at him. Daniel's first instinct was to look away, but he fought it, and returned Jack's stare. Maybe all answers were there, in Jack's eyes. It had seemed that way once. All he had to do was know the language, break the code, decipher the meaning.

The drinks arrived, an interruption. Silence was broken by the sound of pool balls being racked, and a young woman's giggle from across the room. Jack glanced over, unsure why, glanced back to find Daniel still staring. He knew that look. That was the look Daniel got when he was studying some old rock, trying to read what it said. Jack wondered how on earth that look applied to him.

It puzzled him, but didn't make him uncomfortable. When he came to think about it, it was actually kind of flattering, that Daniel would study him like he studied one of his artifacts. Jack decided to test it out: study Daniel the way Daniel studies everything. And the first observation he made was thank god Daniel had cut his hair. There was something too girly about the long hair, even though it had suited Daniel, had given him a geeky charm. He looked more military now, more serious, and besides, now his eyes and bone structure were no longer half-hidden by hair flopping everywhere.

Not much of a study. Jack had never been big on studying, anyway. He made another attempt, scanning Daniel's face the way he would scan a strategic map, looking for the dangers, weak points, opposing forces. Nope, none of that there. He couldn't fault Daniel's face much; it was a remarkably handsome face, even when getting that narrow-eyed, bow-lipped quizzical look it was getting now.

Jack knew that look. It was usually accompanied by a question he didn't know how to answer. He made a preemptive strike.

"So," he said.

"So." Daniel took a sip of beer. "Did you and Teal'c ever see that movie?"

"What movie?"

"Oh, last time we went out for steaks, you said..." Daniel trailed off, drank some more beer.

"Oh, yeah. I remember. No, we didn't."

"Ah."

"What about you? Did you ever finish reading... whatever it was?"

Daniel stared into his beer. "What was I reading four weeks ago?" he said, mostly to himself. "Was that Molodin's report on Neolithic finds in the Ob River Valley, or Frazer on savages?"

"That's the one," said Jack. "There were savages in it."

Daniel blinked. "You actually remember what I was reading four weeks ago?"

Jack shrugged and ran a finger along the side of his beer glass. "No. Not really. I mean, I remember you talking about it, and I remember that savages were definitely involved." He paused and gave Daniel a steady look. "In fact, you promised you'd tell me all about it again, from the beginning."

Unless Daniel was hallucinating, that was Jack flirting. No, that was ridiculous. Jack? Flirt? On the other hand, Jack remind him to tell him all about some book he'd read? Flirting seemed more plausible. In fact, it might explain those strange looks Jack had been giving him, as if he were an object of strategic importance.

Daniel sat back. "Frazer had a very paternalistic view of less developed societies, but he's important because the rituals from the cultures he recorded would otherwise be lost today."

Jack smiled a little. Daniel knew that smile. It was Jack's not-even-pretending-I'm-listening smile. Daniel leaned forward and said quietly, "You're not listening again."

"Bad habit." Jack's smile widened. Yes, this came pretty close to flirting. Daniel adjusted his glasses, reviewing and discarding several replies having to do with Jack's bad habits. A lengthy topic of discussion, and one that Daniel suspected might change the curiously close mood of the evening. He didn't want to lose that yet. Besides, Jack had his own list of Daniel's bad habits, and Daniel didn't particularly want to discuss those, either.

Jack twitched an eyebrow, as if daring Daniel to respond to the bait. Daniel glanced away.

"So..." he hedged.

"So." Jack tapped the tabletop restlessly. "Dammit, what is this?"

"What's what?"

"This. All this 'so-so' business. Why can't we just talk to each other?"

Daniel carefully considered before replying. "Maybe it's because this isn't so much a typical steak night as it is a... a date."

Jack's eyebrows shot up. "It is not."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Lots of reasons. We're not dating each other, for one."

Daniel shook his head. "We're not dating, so this isn't a date? That's circular reasoning. And besides, maybe it's true in general, but we're talking about tonight, specifically. You don't have to be seeing someone in order to go out on a date."

Jack refrained from rolling his eyes. "Oh, for crying out loud. Okay. Next reason. I'm not paying for your meal. There." Jack took another sip of beer, satisfied with his answer. That had been a close call.

However, Daniel was giving him that look that said he wasn't buying this argument at all. "That makes it not a date?" Daniel asked.

"Of course," Jack said firmly.

Daniel's eyes narrowed as he thought. Jack felt a momentary twinge of anxiety. "So," Daniel began. "Your definition of 'date' is predicated on the assumption of sexual favors in return for--"

"Whoa there! _Sexual favors_?"

A rapid jumble of disturbing images flashed through Jack's mind, none of which he wanted to dwell on, but all of which seemed to involve Daniel and a lot of bare skin. He shut off the mental peepshow.

Daniel was blushing. "Poor choice of words," he said hurriedly. "What I meant was--"

"I know what you meant."

"Well, then. Your definition is too narrow. What about something that doesn't involve money?"

"Like what?"

Daniel paused for a moment. "What about picnics? A picnic can be a date," Daniel said.

Jack tapped the table with one finger, and gave a little shrug. "You mean like a picnic at the lake?"

Daniel took a drink of beer, nodding. "Yeah, could be. The lake, or the park downtown... Don't they have some grills there for barbeques?"

Jack shook his head. "Those grills are awful. Takes forever to clean the garbage out of the charcoal pit." Daniel sat back, eyes lowered as if studying the table. Jack went on, "But I have a grill at home."

Daniel looked up. "That's nice," he said levelly, voice betraying nothing.

Jack glanced down at his beer. "Yeah. Don't use it much, but there's nothing like home-grilled steaks. The best." He glanced up and met Daniel's gaze. Daniel nodded silently, watching him intently. Jack wondered if Daniel's old rocks ever felt this scrutinized.

"You know..." Jack paused and looked around. "Maybe instead of coming here next time, we could..." He trailed off as he met Daniel's stare again.

Daniel shifted and ran his fingers down his glass. After a moment he said, "Instead of coming here, home-grilled steaks at your place?"

"But Thursday's no good. Too late. It'd be dark by the time I got the grill going," Jack said.

"No, no. Not Thursday."

Jack downed more beer. "Next Sunday's good. Circumstances permitting."

There was a long pause before Daniel spoke. "Circumstances permitting, next Sunday it is," he agreed.

It wasn't until then that Jack realized he hadn't proven his argument that tonight wasn't a date. He didn't want to renew the debate, though. Daniel should leave well enough alone and say it wasn't a date, even if it might possibly be a date. But Daniel never left well enough alone.

Conversation, such as it was, lapsed with the arrival of the steaks. They ate to the music of pool balls clunking and clattering.

Daniel observed Jack's steak ritual: two short shakes of pepper over the sirloin, meat attacked from the right with firm, bold cuts. Jack didn't linger over his steak, but set to it with ruthless enjoyment, working his way from right to left until the sirloin was nothing more than a memory. He always finished eating first, which was okay by Daniel, because then Jack would relax and start rambling about various topics in the Jack O'Neill repertoire. Daniel ate, half listening to Jack, half pondering that elusive translation.

He was more pondering than listening when Jack asked him, "What are you working on?"

"Huh?"

"Whatever it is you're thinking about. What is it?"

Daniel cleared his throat. "Oh, it's just a translation from P4X-925. I can read the words but can't figure out what they mean."

"I know that feeling," Jack said with a self-deprecating smile.

Daniel slowly cut into what was left of his steak. "The letters are Greek, with some modifications, but the language isn't anything I'm familiar with. It has me puzzled, since the other writings we found there used the same letters, but in a language I know. This may be some aboriginal language written down in a transposed system--" He paused to chew, and noticed Jack's bemused, glazed look. He swallowed.

"Go on."

Daniel frowned a little, and tilted his head. "Go on?"

Jack propped his elbow on the table and rested his chin in his palm, steadily watching Daniel. "I listen sometimes. Greek letters. Aborigines. Go on."

Daniel cut another slice of steak. This was Jack flirting again. This wasn't a date, but Jack kept flirting? Daniel felt the rush of warmth that accompanied knowing he was right. It was too a date. Of sorts.

"Well, if my theory's correct, that means there was a race of people on 925 who had their own language before the current population became," he paused to spear another slice, "linguistically dominant."

Jack's eyebrow twitched. "That almost sounds dirty."

Daniel gulped down the bite of steak and stared. Jack returned the stare. They sat and exchanged stares for a few moments, interrupted by the arrival of the waitress to clear Jack's plate.

After the waitress left, Jack watched Daniel hurry through the rest of his meal, caught Daniel slipping him curious glances, and tried to imagine Daniel actually talking dirty. No, it was impossible. His imagination didn't stretch that far. Daniel could curse in frustration, could schmooze aliens, could explain and wheedle and negotiate and mutter, but talk dirty? Nah.

Daniel finished his steak. "Want coffee?" Jack asked. Daniel shook his head. Jack sat back, vaguely disappointed, and watched a pretty girl line up her shot at the pool table. "How about a game of pool?"

Daniel turned to follow Jack's gaze, waited until the girl had shot, then turned back. "Um... no."

Jack nodded briefly. "Ah." He toyed with his empty beer glass.

"So," said Daniel.

Jack shot him a warning glare. Daniel said hurriedly, "No, I only meant, next Sunday, right?"

Jack relaxed and lifted his empty glass in a mock toast. "Next Sunday," he said as the check slid next to his elbow. Daniel immediately reached for it, which was odd in itself -- Daniel never did that -- and got out his wallet. Opened it and started counting bills in a studiously calm, deliberate way that Jack watched warily. His suspicion was further roused when Daniel gave him that blank, butter-wouldn't-melt smile. Jack made a play for the check but Daniel had somehow sent silent communication to their waitress (Jack suspected her attention hadn't wandered far from Daniel all evening), who appeared out of nowhere and took the check with Daniel's money.

Okay. He got it. Daniel was being a smart-ass and scoring some point off their earlier conversation. Jack raised an eyebrow but sat back and played it cool.

"What do I owe you?" he asked smoothly, hoping he looked as suave as he was trying to be. Daniel didn't answer, just blinked at him, still with the supposedly innocent smile. Could anyone else put so much meaning into a blink? Jack felt his suaveness wobble. Maybe the joke was on him. Except Daniel didn't share the same definition of 'date', so his paying the bill didn't really mean anything at all, did it? At this point Jack had thoroughly confused himself, so he let it alone, though he couldn't shake the feeling that Daniel had proven some obscure point.

Outside, in the parking lot, Jack jangled his car keys and looked up at the clearing night sky, smiling as he caught a glimpse of Venus. Daniel stood next to him for a moment. "Well. Good night," Daniel said.

Jack glanced over at him. "Yeah."

Daniel headed off, but not before Jack caught his smug look. Jack wandered over to his car. "Still not a date," he said to himself.

"I heard that," Daniel's voice drifted across the parking lot.

\-----

Nine days passed quickly enough when you spent five of them on another lush, green, mossy planet with nice, happy aliens who mined trinium and liked to share. Even when their custom for welcoming visitors was three nights of music that sounded like a screeching cat competing with an amateur, out-of-tune violinist. Things went smoothly until Daniel started saying things like "working conditions" and "despicable" in the same sentence and asking a lot of questions they were better off not knowing the answers to. Nowhere did it say they had to like the aliens they allied with. Hell, the Tok'ra and the Tollans were never going to make it onto Jack's Christmas card list. But this time Daniel was vetoed by an order from General Hammond, as well as the curiously docile, happy nature of the miners in question. That made Jack suspicious, too, but they'd wrapped up a favorable agreement for trinium. Mission accomplished, orders obeyed, and moral quandaries set aside until the next lonely dark night.

Until then, life went on. Debriefings, reports, meetings, more reports.

And that damned translation from P4X-925, which was still eluding Daniel. Though he was almost thankful it was, because it gave him a good reason to hole up in his office for a few days and forget about military hypocrisy and emaciated trinium miners marching off to prison-like work camps with happy grins plastered to their hollow faces. Instead, he lost himself in unfamiliar words, in the curves of the letters, in patterns and dead-ends. Not for the first time in his life, he spared a moment to marvel at and admire the wonderful invention of punctuation. No more random groupings of words swimming around without an anchor. Punctuation brought order to chaos. If only the aliens of P4X-925 had heard of it.

His preoccupation with the translation kept him from thinking too much about steak at Jack's house until he was actually standing in front of Jack's door. He hesitated before ringing the bell, wondered if he should have brought anything (like what? wine? uh, definitely no), and cast a worried glance at the sky overhead. He rang the bell. Waited. Gave it another try. Waited. Knocked. Waited. Tried to peek through a window.

"Hey."

Daniel spun around at the sound of Jack's voice. "Back here," Jack said, gesturing with the metal tongs he was carrying. Daniel followed him to the yard where the grill was, alluring scent of burning charcoal enticing him. The sun fought its way out of the clouds and Daniel took off his jacket while Jack poked at the coals and drank from a beer bottle. He didn't offer Daniel one, but Daniel interpreted the open cooler as an invitation and helped himself. He sat on the steps of the deck and watched Jack engrossed in grill arcana.

Jack was being more quiet than grill preparation required. Daniel absently picked at the label on his bottle, searching for reasons. It wasn't that damn planet again, surely? Jack had won that one, if winning was the right term for turning a blind eye on inhumane treatment to get what you wanted. Daniel took a long drink of beer and calmed himself. He wasn't going to have that argument today.

The sun disappeared again. A cool breeze picked up from the north, wafting thin trails of smoke from the grill across the yard.

Jack unwrapped the steaks and arranged them on the grill, stealing another surreptitious glance at Daniel. Why did he have to wear that particular shirt? Jack had been doing all right -- it was just a friendly cookout, no nagging questions of 'is it a date' to worry about -- until Daniel had shown up in that shirt. The loose one with the zipper collar. See, the thing with zippers was that they made you want to unzip them, almost dared you to unzip them, and unzipping any of Daniel's clothes wasn't exactly a safe mental image for Jack to have. Plus, even though the shirt was loose, it highlighted the broadness of Daniel's shoulders, reminding Jack that, yes, underneath the geekiness, Daniel was built. Don't let any Goa'uld see him like this, Jack thought. If they thought he was tempting bait before...

Daniel came to stand beside him. Jack's elbow brushed against Daniel's as he unnecessarily prodded one steak with the tongs. They watched the steaks for a while, and it occurred to Jack that Daniel was being strangely quiet today. He better not be brooding over those damn trinium miners, Jack thought.

"How's the translation going?" Jack asked. Safe bet that at any given moment, Daniel was working on a translation of something.

Daniel gave Jack an odd look before replying, "Oh, it's not. I'm stalled."

"Ah."

"Yes, I... Was that a raindrop?"

Jack glanced up at the sky, now grey and growing darker. "Can't be," he said firmly.

Daniel held out his hand, palm up. "I think it was. There's another."

"Dammit, Daniel. It's not raining."

At that point, the sky opened up in a heavy downpour. They hurried to the house and got inside, drenched and dripping all over Jack's living room. "Damn," Jack said, closing the sliding door and staring outside, watching his steaks smolder and drown. Daniel sneezed. Jack turned around to find Daniel standing by the coffee table, looking blindly around, glasses fogged. Jack approached him and slid Daniel's glasses off.

They were standing very close. Jack watched water drops slide down Daniel's forehead and nose. Their eyes met. Jack felt Daniel's breath, warm against his skin. Stillness all around. Only the sound of the rain and the clock ticking breaking the silence. Daniel right there, gazing into his eyes, lips parted. Very wet, very want-able. They were going to kiss, and Jack wanted it so much, or thought he did. Did he? It didn't matter; they were actually going to kiss.

No, they weren't. This couldn't happen. Could _not_ happen. So wrong, for so many reasons. Jack moved just as Daniel shifted, and -- Oh, no. A chance movement, and their lips had touched, for a fraction of a second. Jack froze. He looked at Daniel. Daniel looked at him, also frozen in place. Wearing a startled, puzzled, curious expression Jack supposed mirrored his own.

Time crawled. At the same moment, they each took a step back, looking away. The clock chimed the quarter hour, and outside the rain fell harder, accompanied by muffled, far-off thunder.

Daniel ran a hand through his soaked hair.

"Steaks are ruined." Jack stood at the sliding doors. He still held Daniel's glasses. Daniel stared at his back for a moment, longing to know what had just happened, what had been about to happen.

He raked his fingers through his hair again. "Perhaps I should go," he said. He saw Jack's head and shoulders drop, just a little. He had a crazy urge to go over and rub Jack's shoulders. He thrust his hands into his pockets, which were relatively dry.

Jack glanced back. "We could order a pizza." And he had that look, that indescribable look that made it impossible to say no.

Daniel managed a small smile. "Okay." Jack's obvious relief made Daniel look away. He took a visual inventory of Jack's living room, aware at every second of where Jack was standing and what he was doing.

Jack picked up the phone. "The special has pepperoni, sausage, mushrooms, black olives, onions, and green peppers."

Daniel thought regretfully of the steaks. "Sounds good." He peeled his shirt away from his stomach and fanned it, trying to dry off.

The wait for the pizza was awkward. Jack braved the rain to go fetch the beers and Daniel's jacket. Scowling, Daniel wrung his jacket out over the bathtub and hung it from a towel rack to drip dry. From its pockets he retrieved a sodden kleenex and two pages of ruined notes about the translation he was working on. Jack went to change clothes. Daniel sat on the side of the tub and tried to reconstruct his notes in an attempt to not think about Jack changing clothes in the very next room. It was ridiculous, anyway, since they shared a locker room and undressed and dressed in front of each other practically every day. But this was different, somehow. Because they'd kissed. Or hadn't.

Jack appeared in the doorway in dry jeans and t-shirt. He tossed Daniel an orange, long-sleeved tee. "Thought you'd like something dry."

Daniel held out the shirt. "Um... thanks." He unzipped his jumper and started to pull it off, aware that Jack was still standing there, watching him. Warmth creeped over his cheeks. He pulled on the dry one. When he looked at Jack, Jack's expression was strange: perturbed yet curious. There was a tense silence, broken by the doorbell and arrival of the pizza.

Two beers and four slices later, things were much more relaxed. Jack was recounting the time he took Teal'c to the movies. "'These are most inefficient methods of fighting,' he said. I tried to explain it was an action film, but I don't think he gets the whole 'mindless entertainment' thing."

"I'm sure the Jaffa have their own forms of entertainment. It's basic to all cultures." Daniel expected Jack to interrupt him, but Jack was sitting back with his beer. "It's like mythology," he continued. "We use it to explain our world, the things around us."

Jack lifted an eyebrow, but remained silent. Daniel took a sip of beer. "It's actually interesting, if you think about it... Many of the pre-Enlightenment explanations for natural phenomena are close to the truth. Ancient man believed the world was composed of basic elements, and in a way, he was right." Daniel fell silent.

Jack toyed with his empty beer bottle. "Basics. Isn't that what Linea called atoms?"

"Yes. That's my point, exactly."

Jack sat forward and tapped the coffee table with the bottle. "Speaking of Linea..."

"Which we weren't," Daniel pointed out, watching Jack closely.

"Did you and Kira... you know...?" Jack cocked his head from side to side, carefully not looking in Daniel's direction.

Daniel cleared his throat. "That's, uh, none of your business."

Jack shrugged. "Well. Doesn't matter," he said. "The whole mountain thinks you did, anyway."

Daniel rubbed the bridge of his nose. "It's none of their business, either." Jack gazed at him steadily. Daniel blinked, but couldn't look away.

It was growing darker, and the rain hadn't let up. The room was getting chilly.

Jack got up to get another beer. "Want one?" Daniel nodded without looking up. He was picking at a cold piece of pizza still in the box, rearranging the green peppers around a pepperoni slice. Jack paused behind Daniel's chair to watch. "Very artistic," he murmured, tapping Daniel's shoulder with the beer bottle. Daniel took the bottle from him. As Jack sat down on the sofa, it occurred to him that this was Daniel's fourth or fifth beer. That was a lot for him, and he'd driven here.

"Daniel. You okay?"

Daniel kept his gaze on the pizza. "Why did you ask about Kira?" he said quietly.

Jack sighed. "I don't know. Curiosity, I guess. I shouldn't have asked, huh?"

Daniel frowned at the pizza and did more rearranging.

Jack took a swig of beer. "Hey, it's no big deal."

Daniel looked at him. "I know." His face and his voice were neutral, betraying no emotion. A chill shuddered down Jack's spine, and he knew to let the subject drop.

"Game of chess?" he offered.

Daniel sank back into the chair, closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "No. I should go."

"I don't think so."

Daniel blinked his eyes open. He was silent for a moment, then asked, "Why not?"

Jack nodded at the beer bottle in Daniel's hand. Daniel frowned at it. "Oh. No, you're right."

"So. Game of chess?" Jack repeated.

"Did we ever finish the last one?"

Jack glanced over at the table with the chessboard. "Apparently not," he said. "Do you remember how you were going to beat me?"

"Oh, yes," Daniel said.

They played chess until Daniel won. It was black outside, later than Jack realized. The rain hadn't let up, either. He toyed with a bishop as Daniel finished off the beer he'd been nursing for the last hour or so. Daniel checked his watch. "I should go."

"You don't have to." Daniel looked up, startled, and Jack quickly added, "It's late, it's raining, your clothes are probably still wet, you've had a few beers..." He trailed off, unsure if he was making lame excuses. And if so, why was he asking Daniel to stay, anyway?

Daniel looked confused. He opened and closed his mouth, frowned, glanced around the room. "On the couch, you mean?" he asked.

Of course, on the couch, of course. Definitely the couch. That was what Jack had meant, wasn't it? Jack was sure it was. Positive. Pretty positive. Positive enough.

"Yeah, the couch. Does this look like a Ramada Inn to you?"

Daniel half-smiled and shook his head. "Okay."

The wind and rain pounded against the windows. Daniel cleared up the pizza and empty bottles. Jack paused by the kitchen and patted the wall a couple of times. "'Night," he said. "'Night," Daniel replied.

Daniel stayed in the kitchen until he was sure Jack had settled for the night. Then he slipped into the bathroom to wash up and strip down to his underwear. Cocooned in a blanket, he curled up on the couch and remembered when he'd last slept here, just after Jack had brought him back from Abydos. It seemed so long ago, much longer than four years. Like remembering someone else's life.

He stared out at the dark room, unable to sleep. Beneath the sound of the rain, the house made its own quiet noises. Clock ticking. Refrigerator humming. The wind on the windows. And something... some _Jack_ sound. Or maybe he was just making that up, inventing a sound to remind himself that Jack was still here, across the house in another room. As if he needed reminding, because in actuality he couldn't forget that fact for a second -- Jack in his bedroom, Jack in bed. Oh, these were not thoughts that led to sleep, not thoughts to be having. He had to focus. Translations. Alien languages. Focus on anything other than Jack O'Neill.

Who was still awake, apparently. Watching TV. He could hear it, too low to understand what they were saying, just loud enough to tell it was the news. Daniel flopped onto his back and hooked an arm over his eyes. The murmur of voices continued, punctuated by music and commercial breaks. It was supremely irritating. Typical. Didn't Jack know he was trying to sleep? If Jack wasn't sleepy, why did he insist on going to bed? If he was going to watch television all night, why couldn't he just let Daniel go home?

Okay, he was making the situation into something it wasn't. All he had to do was call out, tell Jack to turn the TV down. Oh hell, now he had to get up anyway. Damn beers. Never should have had those last three. Four?

Since he was already up, he reasoned as he stepped out of the bathroom, he might as well stop by the bedroom and tell Jack the TV was too loud. He stepped across the hall to where the bedroom door was half open, soft light spilling forth. He touched the door lightly to widen the entrance and peered inside. The "uh, Jack," died on his lips as he saw Jack in bed, asleep. Daniel opened the door all the way. Jack didn't move. He was lying on his back under a dark comforter, eyes closed, face relaxed, peaceful. One short-sleeved t-shirted arm was draped over the comforter. Daniel leaned against the doorjamb and watched.

He'd never seen Jack looking peaceful. What a sad thought, but true. Waking life just didn't give them those options. And maybe he was a little surprised, and a little envious, that sleep gave Jack such peace. Well, good for him. Jack needed peace, maybe more than any of them.

Jack wore peace well. It looked good on him. Relaxed. Comfortable. His lips were closed, not in a smile or a frown or a familiar smirk. Just there, silent and soft... maybe soft. Daniel wasn't sure. Seemed soft when they'd kissed/not-kissed. It would be nice to know for sure, he thought, and pressed the back of his head hard against the jamb for a moment. He walked over to the television and switched it off.

"Daniel?"

Daniel startled. He stood between the bed and the doorway. "I'm sorry."

Jack looked at him, but didn't move. "For what?"

"For waking you up."

"You didn't wake me up," Jack said quietly.

"I, uh." Daniel paused, frowned a little. "You were awake?"

Jack resisted the urge to tell him that of course he was awake, you didn't make it through black ops by sleeping like a log when someone entered the room. It would sound like lecturing. Besides, he was a little amused by Daniel's frown. Daniel felt caught out. Daniel was caught out.

"Yeah, I was awake."

"The whole time?"

Jack couldn't keep the smugness out of his voice. "The whole time."

"Oh." Daniel glanced around the room, as if looking for allies. "I just... The TV was too loud."

"Ah. Sorry." Jack shifted against the mattress, stretching his shoulders. Daniel gave him that scrutinizing look, and man, it was about a hundred times more intense when he wasn't wearing his glasses. Jack swallowed.

"You could have just told me to turn it down," he said. "You didn't have to come all the way back here." _To my bedroom_, he silently added. _To stand in front of my bed, in your underwear, looking really... Oh, this is not good_.

"I was up anyway," Daniel said, but there was something shifty about the way he said it.

Jack moved to lean his head and shoulders against the headboard. "Trouble sleeping?"

Daniel looked down at the floor before answering. "In a way." Jack didn't like this. Daniel was thinking about something, maybe thinking about the same something Jack was thinking about. Or a something in the same family of somethings. Something about, oh, how strange things were becoming between them, and how they'd kissed -- or not kissed -- earlier. And these thoughts were quicksand, Jack had discovered. They had to climb out. Fast.

"It said on the news more rain tomorrow. Most of the week." Oh, that was so lame. Talking about the weather. He made an attempt at a save. "Looks like no cook-outs for a while."

Daniel glanced up at him, looking a little less tense. "I'm sorry to hear that. Those steaks looked good."

"Yeah," Jack said. "Maybe some other time."

"Some other time," Daniel said softly.

They were staring at each other. Not moving. The rain was quiet, the house silent, the room dark but for the diffuse circle of light from the bedside lamp.

Daniel's toes dug into the carpet. He took a step forward, more to do something with his feet than to get closer to Jack's bed. Jack continued staring at him in that assessing but inscrutable way. It was driving Daniel crazy not to know what that look meant. He stared back, thinking his desperation to know must show on his face.

Jack looked away, focusing his attention on the edge of the comforter his fingers were toying with. He cleared his throat.

"You know, when we... uh... that wasn't a kiss, was it?"

Daniel's pulse quickened. He took a calming breath.

"No, it wasn't," he said quietly. And no, it hadn't been. _A kiss would be me grabbing you and locking our lips together until yours melted and parted under mine. Or you doing same to me_.

Oh, whoa. Not the thoughts to be having, not at all. Daniel shut his eyes. If he could just stop thinking.

"Are you all right?" Jack asked. Daniel didn't know how to answer that. He kept his eyes closed and frowned. "I don't know," he said.

"Daniel."

_Oh, Jack_, he thought. _Don't use that voice_. _Don't say my name that way_. So calm, so reassuring, as if nothing could be wrong, when everything was pretty damn wrong.

But it worked. He opened his eyes. He saw Jack watching him. He understood a little of it: concern, confusion, and something else. Something that made him sit down on the bed, as if that weren't a bad idea.

Maybe it wasn't, though. He felt a little better. He didn't look at Jack, just sat there and clasped his hands and caught his breath for a moment. He looked at the carpet and saw ten evenly spaced depressions where his toes had been digging into it. He slid one foot forward to smooth it out.

And things would have been okay -- he would have caught his breath and then stood up and gone back to the couch and gone to sleep eventually -- everything would have been okay, except Jack moved. Sat up or something, moving the mattress, and making Daniel hyper-aware of the fact that he was sitting on Jack's bed, and Jack was in that bed, exuding body heat like a furnace (although Daniel suspected this was a sensory hallucination), and, most importantly, not saying or doing anything to indicate that he would like Daniel to get off that bed.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Jack asked. Daniel glanced back at him. Jack looked concerned and somewhat skeptical of Daniel's as yet unsaid reply.

"I'm," Daniel said, then paused. It wasn't easy to say how he was. He wasn't sure how he was. He wasn't sure what Jack would want to hear. He settled for, "Okay."

The skepticism wasn't going anywhere. How very Jack. Daniel smiled to himself. Jack's eyes widened, the skepticism chased away by uncertainty. Then Jack looked away again, frowning a little.

"Do you..." Jack stopped, expelled a breath. His hands were twisting the edge of the comforter. He let it go, stretching his fingers, and shook his head. "Do you," he tried again.

Daniel held his breath for a moment. This was not a good idea, for so many reasons. First being that he wasn't sure Jack was asking what he thought Jack was asking, so any reply he gave might be ridiculously misunderstood. And if it weren't, well, it was still a very extremely bad idea.

He stared at the carpet. "Yes," he said.

He didn't know what he expected. He'd had a half-formed idea that that would be the end of it. He'd sit there a while longer, then go back to the couch. He hadn't expected it to really be the question, and really be the answer, and that Jack would really take that answer and run with it. But Jack, as Daniel was frequently reminded, was a guy who liked to get things done. So, yes, Jack was running with it, in his own what-the-hell-am-I-doing-now way. Jack moved over.

That was it. Nothing more. Not even a folding down of the comforter. But.

There were times when Daniel liked to get things done, and if he was misinterpreting everything right now, he might as well run with it as far as he could. It was all very strange, unreal, hyper-real. And he was insatiably curious as to what would happen next.

He lay down and slid under the comforter.

They lay there, not moving, staring up at the ceiling, letting the minutes pass in silence. Jack said, voice neutral, "Could you turn off the light?" and Daniel reached over and turned off the light. Then they stared some more, eyes adjusting to the gloom. Daniel clasped his hands over his chest, over the comforter. Jack clasped his hands over his chest, over the comforter. Their elbows touched.

Jack had purposely prevented himself from expecting anything, and yet, now that everything was happening, _nothing_ was happening. He was half relieved, half disappointed, half something else. Too many halves adding up to one very bad idea. Unless...

Maybe he could bluff his way out. "Well, good night," he said.

"Good night."

Yes! Good bluff. Now all Daniel had to do was go to sleep, and everything would be all right again. _Go to sleep, Daniel_, he silently willed. _Go to sleep, go to sleep, go to sleep_...

Ah hell. Daniel was so not asleep. He wasn't even pretending. He probably didn't even have his eyes closed. Dammit.

"Got enough covers?" Just keep bluffing, he told himself.

"Yes, fine." But Daniel still wasn't going to sleep. "Uh, Jack..."

Oh no. No, no, no. Jack considered getting out of bed and going to sleep on the couch himself. If only it weren't more comfortable here, next to Daniel. Physically more comfortable, that is. And, weirdly enough, emotionally more comfortable. Not, however, psychologically more comfortable.

"Are you sure about this?" Daniel asked, and the tone of his voice told Jack that Daniel was anything but sure.

"No," he said.

There was a long pause. Jack's elbow was warm where Daniel's was touching it.

"Do you want me to leave?"

"Do you want to leave?"

"I asked you first."

Oh, for-- Jack shifted restlessly. This didn't have to become an argument, did it?

"Okay, look. I'll be honest," he said, gesturing over the comforter. "Half of me is, uh--" he hesitated, wondering how to phrase it.

"Curious?" Daniel prompted.

"--interested," he said. He thought about it. "Curious, yeah, maybe. And the other half me thinks this is--"

"Crazy," they said simultaneously.

Jack twisted around to look at Daniel, although he couldn't see much.

"You too?" he asked.

Daniel let out a breath. "Oh, yeah," he said.

"Doubts?"

"Big, big doubts."

Jack settled on his side, facing Daniel, and felt more comfortable than he had all night.

"So," he said. He shook his head at himself. _Stop so-ing_. "Can I ask you something? How did we get here?"

Daniel didn't answer immediately. "I've been thinking about that," he said slowly. Of course Daniel was thinking about it. Jack relaxed a little more as Daniel continued, "I think it was a combination of events, of circumstances, of certain elements in our private lives. You know how sometimes things just come together. Converge."

Jack considered the events and circumstances Daniel might be referring to. He was half depressed and half-- oh, don't start with the halves again.

"It all started in that damn trap," he said. That stupid conversation they'd had.

"No, I think it started before that." Daniel shifted onto his side so they were facing. Jack could just barely see his contemplative frown.

"Really?" he asked. "When?"

Daniel shrugged with one shoulder. "Oh, I don't know, exactly. The trap helped it along, certainly. But we were meeting for dinner before that."

Oh, yes. Those. He had thought Daniel had the wrong idea about those dinners, but now he wasn't so sure. When it came right down to it, the dinners hadn't been just about the steak, they had been about the company. "So we can blame the dinners."

"You don't sound very enthusiastic about this."

"Hey, half of me is. The other half of me is quietly freaking out." Ah jeez, more halves.

Daniel cleared his throat. "You know, there are thousands of reasons why this isn't a good idea."

No duh. "I know that, Daniel."

Daniel was looking at him -- he could see that much. Jack didn't know what to say now. He could go through the thousands of reasons why this wasn't a good idea, starting with 'I don't know what the hell I'm doing' and working from there. Or, he could keep acting crazy and grab Daniel's shoulder and pull him into a kiss.

He had just decided that listing the reasons was the better option when Daniel rested his hand on Jack's shoulder, and didn't grab, but slid closer, and _ohforcryingoutloudgoddammitDaniel_ kissed him.

As kisses went, it wasn't much. Very tentative, too soft. Dry. A little off the mark, too, because their noses bumped, and their lips didn't meet perfectly, so there was some awkward manoevering to match up. And then it was over because they both drew back at the same time.

And Jack thought _he_ was quietly freaking out? Daniel was certain his quiet freak out would beat Jack's any day. He'd just kissed Jack. And it wasn't even a good kiss. This was awful. Daniel lay there and waited, watching Jack although he couldn't really see him.

It had just registered that he hadn't moved his hand from Jack's shoulder, and was, in fact, stroking it with his thumb, when Jack curved his arm over Daniel's side, and didn't pull, but brought him closer for another kiss.

Which made Daniel feel a little better because oh boy, Jack, now that was a bad kiss. Bad aim, too tense, and a thoroughly misguided attempt at tongue. Daniel could discard that long list of reasons why not to sleep with Jack; reason number one was quickly becoming, _Because we're really lousy at this_.

Quitting now was a supremely appealing idea. On the other hand, Jack would now think he knew Daniel was a pathetic kisser when Daniel was relatively confident he wasn't. And on the third hand, if he quit now, Jack would move his arm, and it felt good right where it was, holding him.

So Daniel tried again, this time shutting off his brain because thinking was becoming too distracting. Much better. Not perfect, but much, much better. Jack apparently agreed. He responded immediately and, well, wow. That was the right word: wow. They were definitely getting better at this.

Daniel wasn't thinking anymore, and things were pretty damn good. Jack was holding him, then holding him closer, and he was holding Jack, then holding him closer. Running his hand down Jack's back, feeling his muscles move, his spine, his heat through his t-shirt. Kissing, lots of kissing, really good kissing, warm then hot, gentle then not. It was all sensation, and sensation was wonderful, oh how he'd missed sensation. Mindless, mindless sensation.

And he could touch, he could revel. Jack's neck -- firm, so warm, strong pulse beneath his fingers. Jack's hair -- not that soft, but thick, fun to rub. Jack's lips -- surprisingly soft, odd shape, interesting to explore. Jack's chest pressed against his, all hard, muscle and breastbone and heat. So strange, but good. His thigh touched Jack's thigh and his body curved with the touch, seeking more.

"Ouch," Jack whispered against his lips. _Huh? Ouch? What? Oh_. His hipbone was grinding against Jack's and it hurt like hell. He shifted, felt better, let sensation take over again, and--

"Ouch." Damn hipbones.

Jack drew back a little. "Are you okay?"

"Yes." Jack was moving his fingers in Daniel's hair, little twisty strokes. Daniel realized he was doing the same thing to Jack's hair. "Are you okay?"

"Yes." Jack slid his hand down Daniel's back to rest on his waist. "Why don't we... Here." He shifted onto his back, and Daniel, following sensation, settled on top of him. Damn hipbones, then-- much better. And now both hands could explore, and Jack was easier to kiss this way, and...

Why was Jack breathing like that?

"How much do you weigh?"

Daniel frowned. "That's kind of a personal question." Jack sighed exaggeratedly. "Oh. Sorry." Daniel slid half off of him. Jack breathed out deeply. Daniel rested his hand on Jack's chest and felt the hammering of his heartbeat. Jack stroked Daniel's back.

Sensations became lost among thoughts. Thoughts like quicksand pulled at them. Breath drowned in silence.

"Is this working for you?" Jack asked.

"Is it working for you?"

Jack wanted to sigh, but didn't. He stared up at the ceiling. "I don't even know if we made it to second base. What's second base on a man, anyway?"

"I have no idea."

Jack reviewed where they had touched, but still couldn't decide. "This is weirder than weird," he said. "I'm trying to figure out what second base on a man is. On _you_ is. Whatever. I mean, I haven't been thinking of you as another man." He winced. "Okay, that came out wrong. You know what I mean."

Daniel shifted and propped himself up on one elbow. "Actually, I think I do. This may be our problem. We're conceptualizing." His hand moved over Jack's chest as he gestured. "I haven't been thinking, 'I'm attracted to another man'. I've been thinking, 'I'm attracted to Jack'. To reduce the trauma of the situation, we've reinvented 'Jack' and 'Daniel' as... as non-gendered constructs. Abstractions. But of course, we're not concepts, we're real, so the problem is not only accepting the attraction at the abstract level, but also figuring out how to apply our existing experiences at the gender level."

Oh god. Why had he ever stopped _doing_ and started talking? To _Daniel_, for chrissakes. And he had a nagging feeling that kissing Daniel to shut him up wouldn't work. He'd talk right through the kiss.

Daniel's fingers drummed on Jack's breastbone. Jack said carefully, "So what you're saying is that if I were a woman, you'd sleep with me. Which is... disturbing." Which it was. "And yet... also kinda flattering." Which it was.

Daniel tapped his breastbone with one finger. "Ah, but I'm _not_ saying that. This is precisely the problem with conceptualization. If you were a woman, you wouldn't be Jack."

"You know, the scariest thing that's happened tonight is the fact that I understood that."

He couldn't see it, couldn't feel it, but was almost positive Daniel smiled at that. Jack relaxed and stretched his shoulders. Daniel slid back down and settled next to him. Jack folded his hands over his stomach.

"I hate to say this," Daniel said quietly, "but I'm exhausted."

"Yeah," Jack said. "Me too." He let his eyes close. "I don't believe this. After all that..."

"It might be for the better," Daniel pointed out, although he didn't sound very convinced.

"You mean, we're not ready for this."

"I mean, I don't know how to be ready for this. I don't know if readiness is a prerequisite, even. I'm just--" Daniel yawned.

"It's okay. Just go to sleep. I think we'll both feel better if we just go to sleep." Jack didn't actually think that, but he wanted to go to sleep now. Sleep and not think.

He slept.

He woke up with his back pressed against Daniel's chest -- and even at this ungodly hour, with the weak grey light of dawn creeping in through the window, he was aware that it was Daniel, and was aware of all that had happened the night before, and was just as uncertain as ever. But Daniel was warm, and was holding him, arm around his waist, in a protective way. Protective. Not a word he associated with Daniel, at least when it came to himself. He gave that another thought. Didn't get very far with it. Daniel was breathing against his shoulder in the slow, heavy rhythm of sleep, and Daniel was-- whoa.

Well, well. Daniel.

He was too tired to be freaked out. He closed his eyes, covered Daniel's forearm with his own, and pressed back. The rhythm broke.

"Huh?" Very groggy, behind his ear.

"Go back to sleep," Jack whispered and pressed back again.

"Oh my god. Jack, I'm sorry." More awake now, and sounding embarrassed. But, interestingly, making no attempt to move away.

Jack cast a sidelong glance over his shoulder, but couldn't quite see. "It's all right. Go back to sleep."

He felt Daniel's body tense, but Daniel stayed where he was. Daniel's voice was quiet, steady, oddly emotionless. "I'm sorry. It's been so long since I've..." He paused but didn't falter. "... shared a bed with someone. My body just reacted."

This was what Jack should have wanted to hear. "I said it's okay." It came out sounding harsher than he intended it to.

"Oh. Oh, I didn't mean..."

Jack patted Daniel's hand and Daniel settled against him again. They stayed that way for long minutes, until it was clear that neither of them were going to sleep again.

"Are you... uncomfortable?" Jack asked.

Daniel considered. "Do you mean physically or mentally?"

Jack looked back over his shoulder and scowled. "I meant physically."

Daniel let out a breath, relieved. "Oh, that. Um."

Jack raised his eyebrows, wanting an answer.

On second thought, maybe it would have been easier to talk about his mental discomfort instead. Daniel cleared his throat. "Um," he said. He looked away and focused on the blank wall next to the window. Jack turned over to face him and rested his hand on Daniel's hip. He pressed close.

Daniel stared at him. "Oh my god. Jack."

"Hey, it's been a while for me, too."

Daniel inhaled deeply, exhaled, and shuddered. No more languid waves of sensation to drown in. No, now it was little explosions of sensation, everywhere, all over. A rush of blood tingled in his skin, and he felt feverish. He fought down the urge to grab Jack's hip and grind against him. He swallowed hard.

Jack watched him steadily. "I said it was okay. Let go."

Daniel took another calming breath. He had the option of willfully misinterpreting Jack's last statement, but discarded that idea. He relaxed a little, pushing subtly against Jack as he did so, and said, "Isn't this a little... strange?"

Jack pushed subtly back. More tiny bursts of sensation. "We left little strange for huge, gigantic, colossal strange about four hours ago. And you know what? I don't care."

Daniel lifted one eyebrow. He curved his hand to Jack's hip and held it. A rush of heat flowed up from Jack's body, through Daniel's hand and arm. He spread his fingers over Jack's boxer shorts. "You don't care," he said.

Jack gestured over Daniel's hip. "No, I don't. I've been drugged, seduced, frozen, stranded, shot at, harpooned, infested, Neanderthalized, had an alien language downloaded into my brain, got stuck in a timeloop... and all this just since I've known you."

"You make it sound like knowing me somehow caused all of that," Daniel murmured, lifting his eyebrow again.

"That's not what I meant. What I'm saying is, my life is a little strange right now, on a daily basis. What's one more strangeness? And this feels a hell of a lot better than being pierced with an arrow or suffocating in space... What are you smiling at?"

Daniel pressed and pushed. "Nothing. It's just, I remember now why I stayed." Jack placed his hand on Daniel's neck and drew him into a kiss. Another wow kiss. Followed by more. Accompanied by careful strokes, slow glides, sparks of sensation.

A familiar, sweet ache made itself known. Daniel clutched Jack's hip and tensed. Jack massaged the back of Daniel's neck. "It's okay. Let go."

It wasn't okay, but it was too late not to let go. Daniel rested his forehead on Jack's shoulder and shut his eyes as all senses cascaded to a brief, hot rush. He shuddered and swallowed a breath. Jack rubbed his back.

Daniel slid away, onto his back. He covered his eyes with his forearm and murmured, "Sorry."

"For what?"

Daniel lifted his arm and glanced sideways at Jack. "Um."

Jack raised his eyebrows. "Are you really sorry? For _that_?" He rested his hand on Daniel's stomach.

Daniel thought it over. "No, I guess not. I mean, it was more or less... inevitable, under the circumstances."

Jack settled close, sliding his hand further around Daniel's waist. "Speaking of inevitable..." He subtly rocked his hips. Daniel ran his fingers up Jack's arm, admiring its control and strength. Jack rested his head on Daniel's shoulder and tightened his hold.

A high-pitched, insistent beeping shattered the peace. Jack muttered something unintelligible and reached across Daniel to bang on the alarm clock. Light filtered in from the window. The rain had slowed to a steady drizzle.

"Oh," said Daniel, in that curiously understated way he had. The same kind of 'oh' he used when saying, 'oh, I just translated these symbols and they mean we're all going to die,' or 'oh, did I forget to mention I intend to disobey every order you give me today?'

Jack was fighting not to lose the moment, but he had to ask. "Oh?"

"It's Monday," Daniel said, blinking at him.

Jack saw where he was going with this. He'd known all along that they were careening toward this moment: Monday morning, back to the mountain, back to what passed for normal life, after a foray into life a little south of normal.

"It's Monday," he agreed. He took a deep breath and silently admitted defeat. The moment was lost, no matter how much his frustrated body wanted otherwise.

Daniel stroked Jack's forearm. Jack relaxed for a minute to assess the comfort level of Daniel's shoulder as a pillow. Before Daniel could say it, Jack did: "You'll have to go. To get to your place and to the SGC in time for our briefing, you'll have to hurry."

Daniel's fingers stopped moving just below Jack's elbow. "Yes." He sat up, swung his legs over the bed and sat there.

Jack watched his profile for a moment, glanced at the clock, and sat up next to him. He stretched his back. Daniel rubbed his face. He was badly in need of a shave and he looked pretty haggard all around. Jack rubbed his own chin and figured he looked worse.

"Coffee?" he offered.

"Coffee." Daniel stood up and tiredly walked out of the bedroom.

Jack poured him a cup of coffee as Daniel appeared in the kitchen, dressed but still looking worse for wear. Daniel took a few sips, then went looking for his glasses. He returned for the rest of the coffee. Jack leaned against the kitchen counter and held his cup in both palms.

"So," Daniel said. Jack looked at him, wary, and Daniel blinked at him.

Jack blew on his coffee and took a drink. "Was that a good 'so' or a bad 'so'?"

Daniel furrowed his brow. "I think it was just 'so'."

"Ah. Okay, then."

Daniel finished his coffee and put on his jacket. He fumbled around in the pockets and found his car keys. He went over to the counter and leaned against it, next to Jack. "Yes, I think we are." Jack looked over, and saw Daniel's odd little not-quite-a-smile.

Jack took a drink of coffee, feeling comfortable again. "Good."

Daniel started to leave. "I'm going to be late, you know."

"I know."

Jack picked a speck of dust out of his coffee. He heard the front door open. "Hey, Daniel."

"Yeah?"

"Try again our next day off?"

He waited. The words 'I mean try the steaks again' were on his tongue, but he waited without saying anything.

"Sure. Yes."

The front door closed, and Jack finished his coffee, watching the rain.

(the end)


End file.
